


Midnight Sun

by NekoAisu



Category: Final Fantasy XV, 宝石の国 | Houseki no Kuni | Land of the Lustrous (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Accidental Death, Alternate Universe, Angst, Character Death, Gen, Major Character Injury, Memory Loss, Mental Health Issues, Phosphophyllite Prompto, Self-Harm, Shattering - Freeform, Temporary Physical Disability, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unreliable Narrator, although not the way you're thinking of probably, houseki no kuni AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 10:41:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15817251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NekoAisu/pseuds/NekoAisu
Summary: Prompto wasn’t sure what he’d traded for power, if not his heart.





	Midnight Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for the general gem mechanics in HnK which include shattering + major injury in most major battles. Please heed the tags and care for yourself appropriately.

Prompto wasn’t sure what he’d traded for power, if not his heart.

 

He had been selfish - blinded by avarice that made him tear out memories like the gossamer they were - until he’d been weighed down and too late.

 

Poor, _poor_ Phosphophyllite. Just a moment too late, so close he could have just reached out and-

 _No._ He could have stretched himself thinner, yes, and he could have gotten closer, but there was no way for him to have saved anything more of Antarcticite than what he had already gathered in the aftermath. He hadn’t been enough at that time, he knows without a doubt, now. He is barely enough as it is, even with the alloy hollowing him out piece by piece to make room for itself where there is still only enough space for so much more of his original body.

 

(Sometimes, he feels it pulse in time to a beat he doesn’t know. He supposes it’s like a “heart.” Something organic and soft, full of want for something he can’t grasp.)

 

Sensei’s name for him only sticks because he can remember Antarcticite telling him with a slap on the back that shot spidering cracks across his shoulders, “You’re one hell of a gem, Prompto.” He knows he’s Phosphophyllite. That was his name for the first two hundred thirty seven years of his life.

 

Then, he’d become an errand boy.

 

With a body that clanked and clacked and _shattered,_ there was no reason to send him out on patrol. He wasn’t the fastest, either, but he was reliable. When asked to do something, no matter how small, he would throw himself into the task. He wanted a purpose. He wanted a _name._ Only those who had proven themselves to Sensei as useful were granted a name.

 

It should have been easy. Regis wasn’t an unreasonable man. He had granted names to everyone else, already. Just little Phosphophyllite was left out, the baby of the group who was the weakest of them yet.

 

So he worked hard. He went above and beyond what he could reasonably manage until Rutile tired of putting him back together. He learned how to piece and paste himself back into a person without using up things that the others needed. Barely enough for him is all it took. He’d break again soon, anyways.

 

When Sensei heard, he’d been reprimanded and Rutile had been so sad. Phosphophyllite was her family, too. She just wanted him to stay in one piece, not nurse his wounds alone. She was too sweet to useless of him, back then. There’s a reason she had a posthumous name like Lunafreya; the same name as an old priestess that had kept the last moon in the sky.

 

There were days where he was frustrated, both with himself and the others, and he’d watch as Bortz drilled Zircon and Diamond on sword forms in the School’s courtyard. He’d try and replicate it in his room, alone and fumbling. He forgotten the number of times he’d tripped and shattered his head against the corner of his desk, both from the trauma and because he’d run out of space for tally marks on his stolen piece of paper. Alexandrite had been beyond cross with him over the “waste of resources we dearly need, Phosphophyllite. They’re not meant to be used by you.”

 

(Part of his mind already screamed that _nothing_ they had was meant for him. He was just their favorite useless little Phosphophyllite, after all. He wasn’t even good enough to say hi to Noctis, even after Lunafreya had pushed him to. He wasn’t the sort of gemstone that someone like Diamond would associate with, much less even acknowledge.)

 

But he kept going. He kept at it until he’d met Cinnabar and said the stupidest, most idiotic thing he’d ever said to date.

 

_“I’ll find you a job! Something so much better that only you can do, so please! Don’t say you’ll go to the moon!”_

 

 

* * *

 

 

The ocean was a distant memory, when he washed up next to Cinnabar. He knows that it’s blue, that it doesn’t mind carrying him in its arms until he’s back with his kin. He remembers pink and black and _pain_ because his legs weren’t always like that, right? Nobody else looked like him in that way (although, Prompto was pretty sure nobody would ever want to look like him in _any_ way).

 

He waits and stares out at the sky a lot. The School has never felt so impersonal. He supposes it’s the loss of how easily the ocean could cradle him close and seep warmth deep into him until he’s not lonely anymore. The wind is fleeting and only whips at his cheeks and hair, pulling him wherever it wishes instead of leading him the way the tides did.

 

But he doesn’t know what is _in_ the ocean. He can’t remember. It’s a void of static sound and vague colors.

 

The new legs let his name suit him for a little. He’s _fast_ (a bit beyond it, really) and it’s only the lack of any ability to stop when he wants that puts a damper on his sudden upgrade. He starts patrolling and can only watch when Emerald gets his face chipped half off.

 

 _Still useless,_ his head says. _Too much of a coward,_ his heart says.

 

He helps gather the pieces with eerily steady fingers. He’s already floating so far above himself by the time Bortz arrives and saves them all. Noctis is soft on him in comparison to the death threats his partner likes to spit at “stupid, useless Phos.”

 

“Don’t mind Gladio, Prom,” Diamond says. He’s smiling and it’s a soft thing, full of sorrow and deprecation. “He has enough trouble with me as is, y’know? He’s just afraid of losing another one of us.”

 

(Prompto reads into it later, when in his room and alone. He’s not that “one of us” because of course it’s Emerald. Ignis is worth so much to _everyone_ in the School. He’s one of the smartest and most cunning gems that inhabit the School, if not the most loyal. Prompto is just their Phosphophyllite. He’s their weakness.)

 

Prompto smiles back and it’s painfully hollow even while the sun sets him shining like a beacon. “It’s alright. It’s my fault, anyways.”

 

He gathers the fine pieces he’d picked up from among the grass and walks away with a small wave. Noctis calls to him like he’s worth the breath.

 

 

* * *

 

 

If he really thought about it, he couldn’t remember what he’d promised. There wasn’t a trick to it, some sort of tonic that would give him back the memories that had left with his old inclusions, but Phosphophyllite still hoped he would be able to remember what it is that he said he’d find.

A job? Something only Cinnabar could do? He isn’t that weak, though. Why did he need another job, if he already had a name from Sensei? He can fight and patrol all night without the sun powering him through it. Perhaps it’s loneliness?

 

The image of a stained clipboard rips to the forefront of his mind again.

With a name like Ravus, why would Cinnabar want anything else?

 

_He’s like you. He’s lost._

Phosphophyllite picked at his uniform, eyes catching on an unravelling thread before his hands could latch on as well. He yanks and listens to it snap, watches how it slides off his fingers. The gold stares back at him, warped and bright like the corners of a wound where he can see his face reflected in it. The similarities between what made him lose Antarcticite to the Lunarians and the sun that allows him to live and function is nauseating (and to think he’d loved the color yellow, before).

 

He’s green, but not really _green_ in the way Emerald is. He’s a color the Lunarians like more than that of his senior’s viridity, a minty tone that’s uncomfortably similar to the ocean in summer. It hadn’t been a bad comparison before, but now, with his arms eaten by the Sinners and legs faltering under the weight of power he was never meant to have, it reminded him of exactly what else he’d lost.

 

He’d trade his memories, every single one of them, to even get just _one_ more shard of Antarcticite back. She had protected him, taught him to fend for himself and be careful in a way that’d been so very unlike what Sensei and Bortz had advised him to do.

 

They’d told him to be patient, that he’d be better off ( _safer,_ they insisted) at the School and not out on patrol. It was to protect him. Always protect him. Never to _strengthen_ him, or _teach_ him. He’s their baby Phosphophyllite. He isn’t like their darling Diamond, Noctis. He’s just Prompto whose name doesn’t fit him.

 

_Always too late. A step behind. A failure._

But then there’s a quiet suspicion that begins to take hold. It creeps from inclusion to inclusion, whispering of Sensei’s secrets.

 

He can’t shake how Diamond had been shattered so easily by Shiro. Noctis is strong and so is Bortz. There’s no way Emerald would let it happen, either, if he had been there to stop the fight. They’re all so capable and they were all absolutely trounced by the spirit.

 

Then, by the evening, when Sensei had turned it to a dog, Phosphophyllite learned the meaning of the word “farce.” It was something Ignis had mentioned before that he’d not quite understood at the time. Now, he does.

 

Shiro is beholden to Sensei. Sensei is beholden to the Moon.

 

So what does that make Prompto?

 

 _An outlier,_ he thinks. _Maybe just an idiot._

He’s not sure, but he has time to figure it out. He’ll trade what’s left of him for the truth.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, Kudos, and concrit are all appreciated!! <3
> 
> Yell at/with me on:  
> Tumblr: Kiriami-sama  
> Twitter: FlamingAceKiri


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